


reciprocation

by ShirosRedKnight (SweetFanfics)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Long Distance Relationship, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Skype Sex, accidental escalation to skype sex, random college au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 07:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/ShirosRedKnight
Summary: It all started because he had sent a picture of his naked self lying on his side in bed, flipping his boyfriend off on the East Coat with his morning wood clearly visible just underneath his elbow.





	reciprocation

**Author's Note:**

> so micah wrote [this thread on twitter](https://twitter.com/squid_wizard/status/784252344326352896) about long distance sheith and skype sex that i just had to try and tackle _(:”3 another fic i low key struggled with for three days l-lol

It all started because he had sent a picture of his _naked_ self lying on his side in bed, flipping his boyfriend off on the East Coat with his morning wood clearly visible just underneath his elbow. 

 

There was _nothing_  romantic about the picture. He looked like an angry mess in it. Rightfully so because he’d been asleep for a meager 2 hours before Shiro’s call had woken him up, reminding him he needed to get up now or risk missing his 9AM class. 

 

Long story short, Shiro had ended the call with the reminder _he_ didn’t _have_  to be up early but _was_  because he wanted to study. After they’d ended the call, Keith had felt it was well within his rights to take a picture of himself flipping his boyfriend off for not taking advantage of the lie-in opportunity available to him.

 

He’d seen the morning wood at the last second and hesitated for a split second before deciding,  _Whatever. It’s nothing Shiro hasn’t seen before,_ and sent the picture off  with a quick tap before dragging his ass to class.

 

The picture wasn’t supposed to mean anything besides “Fuck you for choosing to be awake this early”. Keith hadn’t assigned it any meaning beyond that. But clearly _Shiro_  had thought it meant something else. Something _sexier_  because, a few hours later, he’d replied back with a blurry shot of himself in a bathroom stall, shirt pulled up to his chin, showing off his torso.

 

And _that_ …

 

Keith’s intensely grateful he’d been alone in his room when Shiro had sent that picture over because there had been _no_ stopping himself from pulling his dick out of his sweats and jerking off to the slightly blurry sight of his boyfriends nipples.

 

He felt 13 instead of 21, with the same weird mildly guilty feeling creeping around his insides as he cleaned himself up with a couple of tissues. Keith he wasn’t sure how kinky it was to come _that_  hard from the sight of an attractive person’s nipples but it was probably a lot… It felt like it would be anyways.

 

But the end point was that the sight of Shiro’s dusky nipples made him miss his boyfriend _terribly_. Keith had curled up into a miserable ball at the end, clutching his phone against his chest waiting for Shiro to get out of class so that he could call the older man. Shiro calls within 20 minutes and they talk without mentioning either picture. But the exchange sticks to Keith's mind, refusing to let go because the message Shiro had sent with the picture has remained unexplained.

 

In the days that followed, Keith found himself returning to that message. He'd open the message thread, scroll up to the picture, and frowned slightly at three words in the text bubble underneath it.

 

_> Quid pro quo._

Keith wasn’t sure if Shiro wanted him to reciprocate or if it was a response to _his_  morning picture. The answer eludes him and the days pass by. 

 

Their calls followed the usual pattern - how was class? What’d you get back on that report? Did you remember to call your mom? Playing catch up and exchanging a hundred tiny details to make up for the fact that they were on opposite ends of the country - Keith half-way through his 4-year program and Shiro in his first year of getting his post-grad degree.

 

They don’t talk about it. Not in any of the calls that followed. But a conversation starts to sneak its way into their text thread. It's born in pieces, peeking in here and there in between mundane commentary. Tantalizing little teases meant to invoke the other into action.

 

 

_you want me to send a selfie from the boys bathroom too? >_

_< doesnt have to be from the bathroom  _

_so it can be from anywhere? > _

_< yeah _

Keith doesn’t know how to respond to that so he doesn't. A week passed and Shiro didn’t bring it up either, but it rattled away in the back of Keith’s head. An unanswered query that doesn’t seem to have a right answer. It seemed to Keith that the only time he wasn't thinking about sending a nude selfie to Shiro was when they were having their Skype calls.

 

Like they were right now.

 

“Sit up straight,” Keith reminded his boyfriend with a laugh, heart aching because he wished he was there. He typically reminded Shiro of this by hugging him from behind or poking his spine with a pen.

 

Shiro grunted, dragging his chair closer to his desk while continuing to scribble away in his notebook, “It won’t help me figure out what the fuck I’m doing here.”

 

“Lemme see, maybe I can help.”

 

But instead of holding his notebook up to the camera, Shiro scratched a couple of lines out before throwing the pen down with a frustrated noise, “ _Fuck_  astrophysics. Just… _fuck it_.”

 

Pushing his chair back with a creak, Keith laughed, “This is the part I remind you you love space enough to put yourself through this.”

 

Shiro groaned, dropped his head back before scrubbing his face with both hands, “Remind me again why I’m doing this?”

 

“Because you want to work at NASA,” he dutifully reminded his boyfriend, grinning.

 

On the other end, Shiro grumbled something unintelligible before rolling his head to stare into the camera, “Tell me I can do this.”

 

“You can do it.” 

 

There was no laughter in those four words, only firm, unwavering belief in Shiro’s abilities. Keith knew Shiro could do this, with all the certainty in the world. If he was there, he’d take hold of Shiro’s face and kiss him or squeeze his hand. Just… use some kind of physical connection to transfer his belief into Shiro.

 

But from the soft grateful look Shiro was giving him, Keith thought maybe some of it has passed on anyways.

 

“Thanks, Keith.”

 

With a small shrug, Keith leaned back in his seat. It creaked under his weight. “Just telling the truth.”

 

Shiro exhaled a chuckle and mirrored Keith’s pose, leaning back in his chair with a hard stretch. As his arms went up, his shirt rode up and revealed a couple of inches of bare skin. Gorgeous tanned skin that Keith would very much love to press his lips into. He found himself  _aching_ to press his nose to the thin treasure trail revealed to him. 

 

Before Keith realized it, his brain disconnected from his mouth and the latter went, breathlessly, “Holy _shit_.”

 

Silence stretched between them almost immediately as they both froze. It was 15 seconds of just _staring_ at each other on their screens where Keith _prayed_  for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. His mouth opened and closed a few times, desperate to do _some_  kind of damage control but there was nothing. Only an increasingly crippling sense of embarrassment that was turning his face _red_. 

 

Keith was ready to slap his laptop shut when Shiro moved. He froze and felt his mouth go dry when Shiro’s fingers curled into the hem of his shirt and pulled it up a few inches, eyebrow rising questioningly. The offer was clear enough to understand even without anything being said.

 

His mouth fell open, breath shortening as Shiro raised his hand up, up, up. Keith felt a whimper knock against the back of his teeth at the sight of Shiro's bare torso. _Fuck,_ Keith thought wildly. _Are we really doing this_?

 

Shiro swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing before he nodded at Keith.

 

 _Your turn_.

 

And let his shirt drop to the floor.

 

With none of the grace and patience Shiro had just demonstrated, Keith got his hands in his shirt and yanked it off. At least, he _tried_. His chin got stuck in the collar, which led to a couple of minutes of frustrated tugging before Keith managed to free himself.

 

As he tossed the offending shirt into the laundry basket, Shiro’s nervous laugh poured out of his laptop speakers, “What are we doing?”

 

Turning around, Keith peered carefully at Shiro’s window. He had moved a couple of inches back, giving Keith a perfect view of his body from his head to his knees. The well-lit room showcased the pink color tinting Shiro’s cheeks, neck, and Kissing the top of his collarbone.

 

 _He’s into this._  

 

Keith felt a wild thrill go through him at the realization. Gave him the courage to pick his laptop up and walk back to his bed while saying, “Getting comfortable and getting naked.”

 

Objective defined, Shiro nodded. Keith felt his mouth go dry when the other man got his feet, hands fumbling with his low riding jeans. An odd sound scrapped against his throat before barreling past his lips when Shiro began pulling his jeans down.

 

 _Just_  the denim because that was _all_  he’d been wearing.

 

“What the _fuck_?” Keith croaked, dick straining against his jeans. “When’d _that_  happen? Did you run out of clean underwear or something?”

 

"Or something," Shiro shrugged, a tiny smirk pulling the corner of his mouth up as he braced himself with one hand against the table, other hand peeling the skinny jeans off. “Started doing this a couple of weeks ago for our calls. Thought you’d like it.”

 

“Well, I do!” Keith huffed, squirming before decided to just take his stupid jeans off. Quid pro quo, right? “And _fuck you_  for not telling me! We could have been doing this _a lot_ sooner!”

 

The velvet smooth sound of Shiro’s laugh made his dick actually _leak_.

 

"I wasn't sure if you'd be into it. I was waiting for you to give me a sign of some kind." 

 

As soon as he was done kicking the jeans off, Keith readjusted his laptop. A tiny, pained sound was birthed at the base of his throat because Shiro was just standing there. Touching himself lazily, watching Keith. 

 

He was touching himself tentatively. It lacked the self-assurance that Shiro held when they when they were together. In fact, it reminded Keith of their earliest days when they had only started having sex and were learning what they liked and how they liked being touched.

 

Swallowing harshly, Keith pulled the screen half an inch down so that Shiro could see his briefs and the wet spot there. His fingers squeezed himself through the thin cotton, rough touch making him sigh and spread his legs more.

 

“Fuck,” Shiro murmured from the other end.

 

His eyes closed for a second before opening again, heavy and hooded. Keith watched Shiro sit back down in his chair, laptop pushed back to give Keith a perfect view of Shiro touching himself distractedly.

 

“Touch yourself,” Keith breathed out without thinking, wanting to see and hear Shiro’s sweet noises of pleasure. “Jerk yourself off.”

 

On the other side, Shiro’s hand began moving with greater purpose. Keith’s eyes oscillated between the bionic hand and Shiro’s parted mouth. “Wish you were here,” Shiro groaned, spreading his legs further. 

 

Keith whimpered as he continued to tease himself through his briefs, giving up and shoving his hand under the cotton at Shiro’s words, “Wish I was there too. I’d be on my knees so fast.”

 

“Love it when you do that.”

 

The easy confession was a sigh Shiro exhaled as he added a twisting motion with every upward stroke. He wanted to come, _fast_. Shiro only did that, or asked for that, when he was desperate to come. Keith groaned at the sight, getting a firmer grip on himself before speeding up the pace.

 

Shiro had slipped a few inches down on his seat, head resting against the back of his chair as he continued to talk, voice a husky murmur, “I keep having this dream about you. That you’re here with me, riding me so good. You do that thing with your hips that drives me crazy. I wake up _so_  hard every time I have that dream.”

 

He could imagine it all too easily. Waking up in Shiro’s too small single bed, pushing the sheets out of the way, prepping himself, and sinking down _slowly_  on Shiro’s cock. Keith had done that the last time he’d visited Shiro. 

 

“I keep dreaming about the time you fucked me against my door,” Keith wound up sharing, laptop wobbling precariously as he pulled his briefs under his balls to give Shiro a better view and himself better leverage. 

 

Shiro squeezed the base of his cock, eyes fluttering shut with a low moan. “Tell me about it.”

 

Mouth and throat drying out, Keith’s voice went rough, “Sometimes we’re wearing clothes but usually we’re naked. You’ve got me up against the door, holding me up with my legs around you. You keep fucking me so hard the door’s rattling. It feels so good because you’re in me so deep.”

 

He wasn’t used to this, expressing himself _and_  being vocal about his dirty thoughts. Keith preferred to let his sentences trail off or depended on Shiro to understand what he meant through meaningful looks. But in that moment? Seeing the effect his words were having on Shiro? Keith understand the power words held.

 

So he closed his eyes and gave himself up to the memory of his most recurrent wet dream. Talked about how he wanted Shiro to do that again, to make him moan so loud the RA would come and ask what was going on. Keith worked his hand faster, harder around himself as he went on.

 

“I’d do that,” Shiro interrupted half-way with a gasp. “I’d fuck you so hard you whole dorm would know I’m fucking you. I’d make you scream my name.”

 

His fingers are so _slick_  thanks to _just_  his pre-come. Almost as much as when it was Shiro’s fingers touching him, teasing him to exquisite madness. Keith whined Shiro’s name, breathless and pleading, eyes locked on his screen.

 

Shiro was a sight to behold. Keith drew on his memory to add to the visuals. The feel of Shiro’s dick and thin pubic hair. The taste of his skin and pre-come. His clean sweat smell. The rasp of his voice came through clear as a bell when he groaned Keith’s name. Keith shivered, remembering how it felt against his ear.

 

“I’m…” was all the warning Keith could gasp out before he was coming - hot spurts of release splashing on his chest. His fingers continued to move, hips jerking thanks to the waves of pleasure rolling through him. Through the roaring in his ears, Keith heard Shiro groan heavily.

 

Forcing himself to open his eyes, Keith peered at the sight of Shiro’s hips moving off his chair lewdly as he came hard enough for some of his release to hit the under side of his chin. 

 

“Shit,” Keith groaned, aching to _be there_  so he could lick that heavy drop off Shiro’s chin and then kiss his open mouth, feed Shiro that come back.

 

Shiro laughed and breathed the same curse out, dragging it out like a caress Keith felt across his bare chest, “ _Shit_. Why haven’t we done this before?”

 

Choking on a laugh, Keith wiped his hand clean on his sheets and answered, “I dunno but we need to do it more often.”


End file.
